


Raise the Drawbridge

by DryCereal



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Home is where the good wifi is, Homecoming, M/M, TATINOF, Touring, and other mushy stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 09:29:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7885732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DryCereal/pseuds/DryCereal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Going home beats any holiday hands-down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Raise the Drawbridge

He can’t help but lean against the door as it closes with a click behind him, exhaling slowly, eyes closed, relaxing, he tells himself, _just for a second._

He _thought_ he was worn out after the UK tour, he _knew_ he needed a break when they got back from Vidcon, but _this_? How he felt here and now? Whole different level.

Even the fact he was struggling to come up with words to adequately describe just how bone-tired he was seemed only to emphasise the point, and underline just how badly he did need to take some time off.

Eyes still closed, he hears Phil pause partway up the first flight of stairs, and set his case down, and then:

“You OK down there?”

He is.

But he’s also not.

So he doesn’t answer just yet.

He can’t help but feel relieved to have this door shut firmly behind them. The flat has always felt like more than just their home. It’s their sanctuary. And right now closing the door on the rest of the world feels incredibly symbolic. Not just in the sense that it’s a physical barrier, hotel room doors just don’t feel this way. There’s always a sense that it’s only a temporary respite. The bus had been the same. An illusion of privacy, of time – but all the while the underlying knowledge that the minute that door opened, in more ways than the obvious, tour-related one, it was “showtime.”

Not that he doesn’t love what he does, he knows exactly how damn lucky he is. It’s just, at times, it gets a bit overwhelming. And sometimes, it’s nice… no, necessary to put all that into a box out of sight, sound and mind and just – be him. Be them. Dan, with a capital D, and without the 11 letters that usually followed. Or just be Dan and Phil. Instead of being _“Dan and Phil.”_ It’s easiest to do that at home, knowing they don’t have to go out unless they choose to. They don’t have to open the door to anyone, hell, they don’t even have to answer the intercom when it buzzes. And there’s been times when they haven’t, not that they would openly admit it. But there have been. Days or evenings or nights when they’ve just needed space. Not from each other, the exact opposite in fact, just time to fade out the rest of the world, to get their own harmony in tune again before continuing.

It feels like one of those times right now.

And they have that time. He doesn’t know what Phil has in mind, but the only plans he wants to make right now is dumping their luggage on the first landing, crawling into bed, curling up together and not moving until whatever they order for dinner arrives later. He’s sure Phil won’t take much persuading to agree to that plan, although talking him into being the one to answer the door later might take some doing.

Showers, laundry and whatever else can wait until at least tomorrow. They’re in no rush.

It’s not as if he just wants to be lazy. It hardly feels like a choice; he needs to rest. And get better. He did everything he could to kick this stupid illness before they went back on tour, but as it turned out, after a second, third and fourth opinion, stronger drugs to fight the infection, and sheer stubbornness all made absolutely no difference, he’d finally accepted that his body just needed time and rest to get better. And then the second thing he had to accept, was that that just wasn’t possible.

Despite repeating at least ninety times a day to various people that he’s feeling fine, he is still ill. Phil knows it, (although he hopes he’d put up a better front to anyone else that he was fine – he’d tried so hard to put up yet another front that he was okay, even on days and nights when he wasn’t entirely sure he’d make it through,) and bless him, he’s been so attentive, so careful with him the entire time they were away that it almost started to annoy him. Just a little. Mostly at night, after the show was done, although he was exhausted, he still didn’t want to be pandered to or fussed over as they got ready for bed in yet another different neutral-toned hotel room. He’d snapped once or twice, but had always apologised before closing his eyes and drifting off.

He didn’t want Phil to worry about _anything_. Not even him. _Especially_ not him.

It brought back memories of times he was grateful to have seen the back of, even if they’d come out the other side stronger, more confident, more successful and even closer both in their personal lives and in their careers, separately and together. They were careful of each other now. The adventure and excitement and especially the risk-taking was something “Dan and Phil” dealt with these days. Dan took care of Phil, and Phil took care of Dan. That worked better.  
Besides, Phil knew he didn’t mean any of the exasperated outbursts he’d made when all he wanted was to be asleep. He did. He had to. Anyway, he’d make it up to him.  
But only if he agreed to answer the door later.  
  
He’d become so lost in his own thoughts he hadn’t noticed Phil had come back down the stairs until a hand landed gently on his shoulder.

“Hey. What’s the matter?”

Dan opened his eyes to find a familiar pair of blue ones worriedly scanning his face for any signs of… anything.

“Nothing. Just… thinking. Relieved to be home, that’s all. I can hear bed calling us. Let’s go.”

He watched as a look of relief spread across Phil’s features before his eyes lit up as he replied:

“Oh good. Had me worried for a minute - after dragging you ten thousand miles back home, it’d be a shame to have to abandon you down here, cos I am _not_ carrying you _and_ the cases up all these bloody stairs!”

“Oi. Firstly, I’m pretty sure the planes did most of the work getting us here. Second, you so would if I asked. Stop lying. And thirdly – you were the one who said the stairs would be good for us.”

“You agreed”

“You know me, I don’t argue”  
  
Chuckling, the two men each grabbed a case and started up the stairs.  
  
Together.

**Author's Note:**

> I did it again. Oops! Ehhhh... Who needs a real life? :D  
> No idea where this came from, where it was going, or what I'm doing, and I don't even have the excuse of long-haul flights to blame it on!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading if you got this far!
> 
> (And yes. Phil did end up coming home sick, but unfortunately for me he didn't tweet that til the day after I posted this. FML)


End file.
